


En(clothes)ed

by peaceloveandjocularity, stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Klinger still can't figure out this lacing thing, M/M, Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26680369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaceloveandjocularity/pseuds/peaceloveandjocularity, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: Klinger gets knotted up in his accessories. Thoracic surgeons are supposed to help you breathe, right?
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	En(clothes)ed

Charles was in the mood for a host of things he wouldn’t be getting: a hot meal, a bed he actually fit in, attending the symphony. He distinctly wasn’t in the mood for Klinger… especially not cloak and dagger style, confronting him in the dark, eyes darting as if the MPs were after him (which, for all Charles knew, they were). “I need your help, Major.”

Charles sighed, leaned against a pole. “Klinger, that you require professional help, I don’t doubt, but my training is in the chest, not the delusional mind. Also, Pierce just went on duty in a ward full of nicely recovering patients. Go relieve his boredom.”

Klinger then did something he’d never done. He grabbed his arm. “It has to be you, sir. Please?”

Winchester thought about telling him that the beseeching maiden routine was beneath him, but he just sighed. “Why, precisely, does it need to be me? What unfortunate sweepstakes have I won?”

Klinger hesitated a moment before caving. “Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt will laugh, sir.”

Charles wondered what it was that made Klinger think he would not.

He wouldn’t. 

After years of acting as his sister’s defender, the result was a store of compassion that would have rivaled Pierce’s - if he’d ever let it show. He rubbed his tired face.  _ Why do I get dragged into these things _ ? “Alright, Corporal. Lead on.” 

“Thank you!”

_ He must really mean it _ , thought the surgeon. Klinger was nearly breathless with gratitude. He followed the unsettled Ohioan to his tent, hoping he wasn’t about to be made to regret half a lifetime of medical training. 

Klinger didn’t help his nerves when he casually shucked his dress. 

“Good God, man! What are you wearing!?” 

“I think I did something wrong, sir.”

Now he understood why the man had sounded breathless, anyway. He was already working on the laces. “If you’ve cracked a rib doing something this insane, Corporal…” 

“Is that you saying you’ll be one of my section 8 signatures, sir?” 

“The word is ‘signatories.’ And, no. I doubt you presently have much breath to hold, but try.” Klinger’s compressed ribs drew in and the contraption let go. 

They both breathed a sigh of relief and Charles turned him to begin feeling his ribs. He stopped short at the second part of his costume. “I assume this was done for someone specific. You would never inflict this one on the Colonel, not even for one of your section eight-scapades.” He would have kept on, told Klinger to set aside any lover who encouraged such painful enhancements, but it was hardly his place. 

“Sure - I did it for me. I did it here a couple of months back.”

Charles' eyes were more white than blue, wide with shock. “You did this to  _ yourself  _ !?!”

“Don’t you ever want to feel pretty, Major?” 

“I can't say, ah, that I've ever... thought of this modification.” His fingers reached out, moving the ornate hoops, inspecting. 

“Major, these healed weeks ago.”

“Are you the doctor? You should have enlisted my help for this, too. If you are going to play with surgical tools, you might well ask a surgeon.” 

Klinger squirmed under his touch. None of his past partners had ever picked up on the profound sensitivity of his chest; having Charles touch him there casually was decidedly difficult to bear. “It was a sewing needle.”

“You used your  _ sewing supplies _ on this???" 

“They've been good enough for OR, sir,” Klinger reminded him. 

“At dire need, when supply was six weeks late, yes. Do you know what sepsis is?” He could see the piercings were healed but his hands itched to swipe them with alcohol all the same. He lifted one of the small hoops and tugged, just to make sure.

Klinger whined. 

He shot the Corporal a concerned look, repeating the gesture. “I thought you said these were healed?”

Klinger didn’t sound breathless anymore, though Charles knew his ribs were going to ache for seven to ten days; now he sounded  _ faint _ . “They are, I promise.”

“And yet you persist in sounding so very pitiful.”

“Want to hear a different sound, sir? Use your mouth.”

Charles took a step back. The words made literal sense, perhaps, but he failed to process them until he took in Klinger’s fast-darkening eyes, the heat in his cheeks. The taller man went to his knees so quietly and with such unexpected grace that Klinger’s mouth almost fell open. But then Charles’ mouth was on him  _ there _ \- opening and closing, licking and sucking, taking those bits of metal inside. 

_ I am going to die from this. God, I hope they know not to bury me in my uniform. Captain Pierce knows the blue chiffon is my favorite, right?  _

“Klinger, since you had the good sense to seek me out for medical advice, would you heed some if I were to offer it now?”

“Yes sir, sir.” 

“You, Corporal, need to lie down.” 

Klinger went without a sound - until Charles stretched out over him and began to kiss his neck, fingers still flicking at his ornamentation. “That’s so good, Major,” he moaned and heard Charles chuckle, pleased, as his free hand pushed Klinger’s underwear down. He unzipped himself, pressed into him, aligning them. 

Klinger spent much of his time comparing and contrasting fabrics. This was silk and fire… and an impossibly soft hand that made the Corporal self-conscious about the roughness of his own touch… not that Charles seemed out to escape it by any means. 

Klinger swept slow arcs over his back as Charles’ hips rolled against his. The surgeon chuckled.  _ You are a responsive little thing _ . Then he sobered. That corset had to have hurt like hell. “Are you sure you’re alright, Max?”

“Mmm-hmm,” came the almost-hummed reply. 

“I find myself quite gratified that you sought my aid tonight.”

“You’re not bad yourself, Major,” Klinger teased back, affection audible in the words. 

“You’ll have to permit me to earn higher marks. When you learn to wear a corset, I’ll untie it for you… slowly.”

In his best fantasies, Klinger had never imagined a lover who might permit the comforting accessories that kept him sane in Korea, never mind one who would enjoy them with him. “The corset’s going to take some practice. But I have a whole wardrobe you’re welcome to take me out of.”

Charles did something wicked with his fingers. “Oh, I’m sure, given your skirts, that you’ve something I can take you  _ in _ as well.”

Klinger searched his eyes to make sure he understood. Then he tallied the night’s delicious discoveries: (1) Charles was willing to sleep with him, (2) unlike any and all of his past lovers, Charles was pretty damn quick at figuring out how and where to touch him, (3) Charles had okayed the wearing of future costumes, and (4) the camp’s most eloquent speaker could talk dirty when he wanted to. 

_ Lucky, lucky, lucky me _ , thought Klinger, blessing the defective corset and the money it had cost him. “Major, when you say ‘take’?”

“Yes? Ask me, Max.” 

“You mean it?”

He sounded so young - a kid at a slumber party whispering in the dark - and Charles almost laughed because he truly hadn’t known that adorable and erotic could exist side by side, but they seemed to do so - and contentedly - in Max Klinger. “I will mean whatever and however you wish. You’ve more than earned it with your daring, I’d say.”

To his surprise, Klinger blushed. “I wasn’t trying to be brave, Major. I just couldn’t help it.”

“You must have done so admirably in the past. Unless your feelings are quite new?”

Somehow Klinger managed to shift around until he was cradled in one of the Major’s arms, his warm mouth pressing kisses to his throat. “Are you asking me when I fell for you, Major?”  _ Charles insecure? _ he thought.  _ Who would ever believe it?  _

“Ah, yes, but I have a further request if you’ll hear it.” 

“Major, I’m naked and hard - you can probably get me to say yes to anything.”

Charles kissed him, pushing his tongue past his lips. When he drew back he said, “We both know that I could have gotten you to say yes without undressing you, enjoyable as it has been so far. However, I do not believe you will find this request a hardship. Say my name.” 

Klinger’s eyes went very dark. “Charles?” It was tentative, uncertain. 

“Yes. It sounds good in your mouth.”

Klinger had never had anyone hand the keys of their pleasure over so easily. “Sure thing, Charles.” He spoke into his ear this time. “And I started wanting you the third day after you showed up.”

“You remember that, ah, specifically?”

“I never ended up on my knees in the middle of the day over anyone before.” 

Charles made a pleased sound. “I wish I had seen that.”

“I do encores.” 

Hearing an invitation, Charles lifted him up and placed him over his hips. 

“Wow.”

“‘Wow’ yourself, Maxwell.” He traced up his ribs, still a little worried and wanting to watch his breathing, but Max guided his hands to his hips. 

“Hands off, Major. You’re watching.”

“And listening.” He squeezed the Corporal’s thighs. “Tell me how I caught eyes as beautiful as yours, my pretty, pretty girl.” When he looked up, the Corporal - his Corporal - looked like he was going to cry. “Maxwell?” 

“What did you call me, Charles?”

The Major blinked rapidly, trying to remember. His hand darted to his lips. “I … forgive me, Max. I suppose it is something I have said to myself inside my mind,”

He might have said more but the words died unspoken when Maxwell launched himself at his lips like a pretty - and devastating - weapon that was silky skin and tough sinew and the purest sort of physical,  _ visceral  _ gratitude that Charles had ever encountered. Seconds later, the Major was surprised to hear himself moaning under that mouth. 

Klinger let him go just because he wanted to listen to him panting. As predicted, it was a  _ great  _ sound. 

“I take it  _ that  _ was not part of your reenactment?”

“Nah. That was a whole new thing. I was… I was, uh, saying thanks, Major.” 

“Oh?” His eyes were shining. “For what?”

“You know!”

“I  _ suspect.  _ But I think I would like to hear you say it.”

Max gaped. 

“Well? Do be a good girl, Maxwell, and speak up.” 

Maxwell whimpered at him, then gave a moan from low in his chest. “I’m… Charles, I’m  _ really _ glad I got you.” 

The surgeon smiled. He knew that Maxwell didn’t mean just for the corset debacle… and he promised him that he would spend their shared lifetime loving him and renewing that gladness. 

End! 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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